


something so precious about this

by theyoungestzerogmechanic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Thunderstorms, aka. clarke's dad, mentioned canon character death, thunderstorm cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyoungestzerogmechanic/pseuds/theyoungestzerogmechanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke isn't too fond of thunderstorms, the rest is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something so precious about this

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I was trying to get over my writers block and I wrote this. Short and ridiculously fluffy. Title from Hozier's From Eden bc I was listening to his album while I wrote this and it felt fitting.

“Fuck,” Clarke curses softly, wincing as she bangs her elbow against the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” Raven asks, voice muffled by her pillow.

“I wanted to see if you were awake,” Clarke says, voice quiet in the dark room, almost drowned out by the drumming of the rain. “And I banged my elbow against the doorframe.”

“Why?” Raven rolls over and rubs at her eyes, “I’m pretty sure it’s some ridiculous hour or another.”

The blinking numbers on her alarm clock agree with her.

“Um,” Clarke says. 

When Raven turns on her beside lamp she can see Clarke with a blanket around her shoulders tugging at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, one Raven remembers belonging to Clarke’s dad.

“Is everything okay, Clarke?” Raven asks, sitting up and shoving hair out of her face.

“It’s just,” Clarke sighs and hangs her head looking defeated, soft curls falling around her cheeks. “It’s just the storm, I hate thunderstorms.” 

“Seriously?” Raven asks.

“Seriously.” Clarke replies, rubbing her thumb across her bottom lip, one of her nervous habit.

“Shit, I’ve never noticed before.” Raven says with a frown, “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“Please,” Clarke says, moving across the room and climbing into the double bed beside Raven when she turns down the duvet, turning off the lamp before tugging the duvet up around their shoulders. She curls onto her side, knees pressed against Raven’s thighs, and sighs softly. “It got better for a while.” She says eventually, and it takes Raven a minute to work out what she means.

“Oh,” Raven says, and then, “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” Clarke hums in agreement, “The thunderstorm thing was big when I was a kid, and he used to stay with me when I got scared. The older I was the less scared I got, and I figured I outgrew it or something. I still wasn’t great with them, but it was nowhere near as bad as it used to be.”

“And then he died.” Raven finishes for her.

“And then he died.” Clarke agrees, reaching up to rub at her bottom lip.

Raven reaches between them and takes Clarke’s hands tightly in her own, rubbing her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles.

“Hey,” Raven says, “It’s whatever; you know you’re welcome here whenever you need. I’m always here for you.”

“Same,” Clarke says, “You know I’d always pick you first.”

“Remember that goes both ways,” Raven says, brushing a hand down Clarke’s arm when she flinches at a crack of thunder. “You’re my girl.”

“Thanks Raven,” Clarke says, moving closer so her head’s tucked underneath Raven’s chin and Raven’s arm curls loosely around her back, resting between her shoulder blades. 

When the lightning illuminates the room Raven can’t help but notice the way it makes Clarke’s hair glow.

“What used to help when you were younger?” Raven asks, fingers pulling though Clarke’s curls. 

“I just liked knowing that he was there for me,” Clarke says quietly, “It made me feel safe. You’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself.”

//

Raven wakes up on her back with Clarke mostly on top of her, head tucked against Raven’s neck, and her arm around Clarke’s waist, fisted in the soft material of her sweatshirt. 

The storm has calmed down, and the only sound is the soft tapping of the rain against the building and Clarke’s slow breathing. 

Raven decides she likes waking up like this, to Clarke’s warm weight and steady breathing and her hair ticking her nose.

“Everything alright?” Clarke asks, pausing to yawn widely and turn her face so she can see Raven better. 

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” Raven says.

“Well don’t strain yourself.” Clarke says, and Raven can feel the vibrations of her words from where her cheek is pressed against Raven’s collarbone, breath warm against her neck.

“I was thinking that I like waking up like this,” Raven says and Clarke makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. “And that we should do it more often.”

“I think I’d like that.” Clarke says, “I’ve only had a crush on you for about four months.”

“Really?” Raven asks incredulously.

“Really,” Clarke laughs, “I can’t believe you didn’t know. I am the least subtle person ever about this sort of thing.”

“Well I’m kind of oblivious to that sort of thing,” Raven says, poking Clarke’s side. “Want to go on a date tonight? We can order takeout, watch whatever made for TV movie is on, and then make out on the couch.”

“That’s almost exactly what we do most nights anyway,” Clarke says fondly, “But sure, I would love to.”

Clarke moves off Raven to curl into her side instead and Raven presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Ten more minutes and then pancakes?” Clarke asks, her nose bumping against the underside of Raven’s jaw.

“Duh,” Raven says with a smile, “You know how I feel about pancakes.”

She loves them.


End file.
